To Give Atlas the World
by TheMadKatter13
Summary: [Kinktober 2017 series 10: Edgeplay / Gunplay] This was like confessional for them, a time for Erik to unburden himself of what he's done and a time for Charles to take Erik's words into himself like they were his own sins. CU; Bottom Charles.


**By the time I've caught up, I'll be behind again… Also, idk why Edgeplay and Gunplay are on the same day since Gunplay is a form of Edgeplay...**

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Day 10: **Edgeplay** | **Gun Play** | Fucking Machine

"How many people do you think I've killed with this very gun, Charles?" Erik asked, circling his friend. Charles, predictably, didn't answer. Couldn't. "I've certainly lost track. But I suppose you'd know. If I took off this helmet, I'm sure you could pick out every single memory I have of who I've ever killed and with what."

A tear leaked from the corner of Charles' eye and then he squeezed them both shut. Erik's heart broke just a little and he crouched down in front of Charles to wipe the stray tear away. He didn't comment on it, didn't comfort Charles, didn't try to apologize. This was like confessional for them, a time for Erik to unburden himself of what he's done and a time for Charles to take Erik's words into himself like they were his own sins, a mark of his failure to protect his family, even before they knew one another. Instead, he stroked the tip of the barrel against Charles' cheekbone and whispered, "Eyes open, Schatz."

Charles obeyed, the white of his eyes tinged red with unshed tears. Erik did not reward him with a kiss, as he usually would - today was not the place for that. In place of a rewarding kiss, Erik pressed the length of the barrel against the stip of cloth keeping Charles' mouth slightly opened, and said, "This gun has killed countless, and I want you to kiss it."

Pain streaked across Charles' delicate features and his eyelids fluttered, his eyes getting redder and wetter, but he closed his lips around the gag and the barrel as best as he could. Erik continued to hold it there, pressed just so against Charles' mouth, pushing just a little inside, and continued to speak.

"I've killed men and women with this gun. Fathers and mothers. People younger than Raven. Because they deserved it." Charles shook his head, just two small shakes, before he remembered that he wasn't supposed to move and he fell still again, shoulders hunching, his whole body curling in on itself in rejection of Erik's principles. Violence came at a cost, one Erik was more than willing to pay, and as much as he wished Charles could see his point of view, he was almost glad that that was a cost Charles was never willing to pay.

"Yes, Charles, they all deserved it," Erik continued. "I pushed bullets into every one of them, from this gun or from my own hand. I've hit people with this gun, until their face was cut from the sight and their bones were broken. This barrel has been covered in the blood of many, and I'm going to fuck you with it. I'm going to fuck you with the same weapon I've used to kill the humans you love so much."

Charles made a muffled sound and the wetness building in his eyes fell, but he didn't release the headboard or get off his knees. He stayed right where Erik had placed him, naked and open on the bed, some time ago. He didn't move when Erik sat on the edge of the bed near his hip, or when the end of the gun, the sight smoothed away with Erik's powers, pressed into his slick hole. He did nothing except shiver and grip the wooden headboard so hard that his fingers bleached white and the wood groaned.

The gun was loaded and the safety was off, as it always was, but Charles didn't flinch away from the cold metal that filled him. There was tension in his spine, in his arms, in the set of his shoulders, but he stayed open and loose, unresisting, and his cock was hard and red between his legs. For all that Charles abhorred Erik's violence, he took it so beautifully, so willingly.

"I find it strange that you only react like this when I fuck you with my weapons," Erik mused aloud as he began to push and pull the gun in and out of Charles, index finger tracing the curve of the trigger without settling on it. Charles jerked and shuddered every time it made contact with his prostate and his cock twitched, ignored. Erik just settled his elbow on his crossed knee and his chin in his hand, his own erection ignored and trapped in his khakis, and watched the slide of metal in and out of Charles' pink hole, his cock a tempting sight through the spread of his thighs. "Out of all the things I've used to kill people, all the same things I've modified to fuck you with, I'm the worst of all my weapons. Because they're only tools, and yet you cry every time I tell you what I've done with them. But you never cry when it's just you and I. Even though I'm the one that has wielded every single one of those weapons. Even though I am the intent behind their purpose. Even though I have killed people without my powers. You never cry when this human-turned-weapon fucks you. Why is that, Charles?"

It was a rhetorical question. Not only because Charles can't respond - Erik's helmet blocking Charles' powers and a strip of cloth blocking Charles' voice, but also because Erik knows the answer. It's the same answer Charles always gives, and yet something in him still can't make sense of it.

Charles had begun to shake in earnest as Erik continued lazily pushing the gun into him. It was clear he was getting close, but he wouldn't take his hand from the headboard to stroke himself… because Erik had told him not to. Charles was always beautiful, but like this, naked and sweaty, gagged and willingly vulnerable, he was breathtaking. Erik couldn't help himself and leaned forward to press a kiss to Charles' hip before sitting back again.

"Another thing I find strange is that you know this gun is loaded, that I don't have the safety on and it could go off at any time and make you another victim, but I know that plays no part in your tears," Erik continued softly as he finally let his powers take control of the weapon piercing his dearest friend, his lover, his Charles. "For all that you fight me and my ways, you have more trust in me than any of my followers. You are naive, Charles, but somehow you turn that naivety into magnificence. You see so much horror in the minds of the world, in my mind, and yet you still believe the best of us all. So much so that you put your life in the hands of a murderer and his tools."

With a tremendous shudder and a thick, terrible, muffled sob, Charles convulsed and came, his cock spilling white onto the bed sheets and his hole clamping tight around the modified barrel of the gun, resisting the push and pull of it. For as slow as Erik had been going, he slowed further, encouraging Charles' release even as he did nothing to prolong it. When it faded at last, he pulled the gun from Charles' body, returned the flattened sight to its natural state, and flicked the safety on before letting it fall to the floor.

Charles was still shuddering as Erik untied the gag from the back of his head and when he pried Charles fingers from their petrified grip on the headboard. He slowly lowered the man down to his side, avoiding the wet spot, and brushed the long strands of his hair from his red, tear-damp face. Dazed eyes blinked up at him as he removed his helmet, and instantly concern and love flooded his mind, seeking reassurances that _Erik_ was alright, in typical Charles fashion. Even with all the sins of the world in his mind, Charles was always more concerned about those around him, neglecting himself.

Erik sighed as worry continued to pulse into his mind and he bent over to press a kiss to Charles' forehead. Weak hands snagged at his shirt, keeping him half-laying on top of the smaller man, and he settled his ear over Charles heart. "Yes, Charles, I'm quite alright, thank you," he murmured into the still air. If he concentrated, he could feel Charles blood pumping through his chest, through every one of his limbs. There was power in that too, but it felt less, now, now that Charles was no longer kneeling for him.

Instead of verbally responding, Charles filled Erik's mind with warmth and love and assurance and the sensation of home. It didn't erase the black stain of his memories or the red blot of his anger, but it did blanket them, easing their pain, if only for a short while. Erik sighed and relaxed, and let himself take of Charles' comfort for a little longer.

FIN

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 **Out of all the ideas I jotted down a few months ago when I was in a Cherik reading craze, this has nothing to do with any of them and is kind of a base-jump into the Cherik fandom. My bad? Also woops gags are part of the 11th's prompts...**

 **Reblog the thing (themadkatter13fanfiction tumblr, tagged/To-Give-Atlas-the-World).**


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